(Original) Foster's Arc - The Solaris Jokers
by jteller77
Summary: When a former Davion mech pilot is forced to leave his old unit, he is left without a job or a home. However, he is made an offer by a mercenary unit based out of Solaris. And from there, he rises through the ranks and becomes one of their top pilots. This is the story of Foster and his time with the Solaris Jokers.


**Chapter 01**

**April 16, 3063 - Unknown Planet **

**The Battle for Port Arthur**

The year was 3063 and war was steadily brewing on the planet of Port Arthur. Warfare on many different scales was a regular occurrence. Tanks, infantry, VTOL's and aircraft, and BattleMechs were involved in a bloody conflict to take control of this planet. We were dealing with a faction that wasn't going to surrender, but instead was going to fight until the very end. They were brutal, destroying everything we sent at them. They even managed to hold off some of our best mechwarriors, pilots who had years of experience underneath their belt, slaughtering all of them. And even if any survived, they were found and then shortly executed in cold blood.

So when I got the call from my commanding officer telling me that my unit was going to be deployed close to the front in order to reinforce a Company who had suffered heavy losses in the most recent attack, I had reason to worry. We were inexperienced, we had only a few months under our belt. Unfortunately, we were all that was left. All of the experience had been swept away and crushed in their last engagement. We were briefed, and then we prepped for our mission. We were to rendezvous with what was left of the Company, and then finish their original mission of storming and capturing a weapons manufacturing facility. It sounded easy, until I heard this from my CO's mouth. "Expect heavy resistance. If one of our best companies is requesting support, something tells me that whatever forces are stationed there, have heavy firepower."

"Fantastic, we've been tasked with completing what could be compared to a suicide mission." I moaned in disappointment.

"Foster, shut your trap, we've got our orders"

"And suit up, mechwarrior, we're hot-dropping in at 0700. Prepare for hell."

Around 0645, I assembled at the Mechbay with my fellow lance-mates. We were the best mechwarriors that were currently stationed on this dropship. We had only one chance so we had to do this with quick and perfect precision. I got into my battlemech of choice, a heavily modified Hunchback HBK-4H. My other fellow lance-mates got in their mechs and got ready for the hotdrop.

When 0700 hit, the bay doors opened, and we dropped into enemy territory. It was quick and sudden, and dangerous as well, as we were under heavy fire from orbital guns and anti-air missiles trying to put a giant hole into our mechs and our dropship. It was dangerous and intense. A orbital gun barely missed my Mech's cockpit, and I panicked. The com channels started to light up with panic, fear, and despair. As we got closer to the ground, the anti-air fire intensified.

One pilot near me had been locked onto by a barrage of LRM's. He was yelling, trying to get his AMS to work in order to deflect the missiles, but it wasn't working. The barrage hit his center and right torso, detonating the ammo stored inside there. His mech was torn apart by the explosion. As his mech exploded, his comm went dead. Nothing was showing from his heartbeat sensors either. He was gone before he even had a chance to eject.

We landed shorty afterward, and linked up at a navigation point we had put on our radar scanners. I had friendlies showing up left and right. As soon as I had touched down, I headed for the rendezvous point in order to link up with the rest of my company. Comm chatter was at an all time high, with radio transmissions coming in from various friendly units.

When I arrived, I found what was left of my company. From a total size of eight, well prepared mechs, only three including myself landed in one piece. The rest of the company were either MIA during the drop or were torn to shreds by enemy fire. This situation went from bad to absolutely worse. We went on the comms and attempted to get the remaining mechs to rendezvous with our small lance. " This is Lt. Joseph Foster, acting commander of Alpha Lance, Delta Company to any surviving Davion mechwarriors, if you are alive, rendezvous at grid coordinates 043 027. I repeat, if you are alive, rendezvous at 043 027."

We waited about fifteen minutes and eventually three more mechs showed up. They were from the other company that dropped in with us. They were going to be flown in and land with ground forces, however they were shot down during our orbital gun debacle. They were the only mechs, hell, they were the only Davion units that made it out of that dropship in one piece.

Since our company leader and my lance leader had been obliterated during the drop in front of my own eyes, I assumed command of what was left of both companies and moved towards our first objective: linking up and providing support to the remnants of Golf Company.

A short time later we arrived at the rendezvous point. And what we saw, shocked us. There was no company to be found. Just destroyed mechs and vehicles. We were curious as to what was going on with this and why Golf Company was MIA.  
Our comm lit up with a voice.

"Welcome, Davion scum. You're just in time. Welcome to Hell. We sent Golf six feet under, and we're going to help you join them!" The comms went dead, and seconds later a PPC went off and hit my lancemate's Atlas in the right torso. The armour of the Atlas was damaged slightly, and seconds later my company fired back.

"Open fire on these scumbags, we'll gladly send them back to hell!" I yelled into the comms and fired off my weaponry at the opposing force.

We split into two different groups of three, both retreating in an attempt to lure the enemy out into the open. The plan didn't go so well. An 85-ton Warhawk came out from it's defensive position and started firing at us. It landed two clean hits on the other lance, killing my fellow pilot in the Atlas and another one piloting a Commando. I could hear their blood-curling screams over their comm channels shortly before they went dead. I was shaken up by the scream, but I was able to keep my cool and carry on.

I wouldn't be able to hold my emotions for long, however, as the surviving lancemate, was viciously shredded to bits as he attempted to link up with us. He died gruesomely, however his death was not in vain as he managed to take their trinary down a few notches, killing two of their mechs and damaging several more before an AC/20 tore the upper half of his mech into shreds and shredding it in a loud, yellow boom. He never broke down, keeping his cool and telling them to rest in pieces. He died a valiant, honorary death for his lancemates, a death that would later benefit me and the rest of our seriously outnumbered and outgunned company.

We were back down to three mechs, deep in enemy territory with little support. I got my CO on the comm, and requested support and possible extraction as we were up against insurmountable odds that were not in our favor. We decided to attempt a hit & run attack in hopes that we could figure out their ranks and if there was anything around them that we could use to our advantage. I chose to stay back, due to the speed of my mech and the fact that I had long range weapons that could do a lot of damage.

We took our plan into action. I tried to find some high ground, eventually settling for a hill located close to where the other lance was located. Once I had arrived, I set up and checked to see if I could spot anything for my fellow lancemates. I spotted about half a dozen Clan mechs, and warned my lancemates.

"Titan, Strider, be advised, your possible resistance consists of a small force of about half a dozen hostile mechs. Be advised, most of them are either Heavy or Assualt class, so do not engage directly."

They both acknowledged my command, and attempted to find a hill so they could scout further and see if there was more resistance hidden away.

"There's no additional resistance hidden around, over."

"Copy Strider, I'll see if I can weaken a few of these scum for you though, make your job easier," I casually said over comms.

My heart was pounding and my face was sweating. A weak Cicada entered my line of sight. I fired off my Gauss rifle at his head, and it hit and took it clean off. The mech toppled over backwards and exploded.

I radioed in Strider and asked if he could see anything since he was closer than I was. "Strider, report in." I asked.

The comms rang out "Incoming enemy fire! We're getting banged up. Focus fire on Gamma!"

I looked at my IFF reader and saw "Gamma" was a 65-ton Catapult. They dispatched him with little problem. We'd taken three mechs down so far. "Three down, 12 to go!" Our next target was Delta, a 70-ton Summoner. It was damaged heavily due to our friend's earlier sacrifice. It entered my sights, and I let off a shot with my gauss. The engine exploded and the pilot ejected before more damage could be done. It toppled over, taking another damaged mech in the explosion.

We had taken out a star, despite suffering heavy losses. We were doing alright so far, and we looked as though we had a chance to actually survive this. We continued our engagement, focusing our fire on two 35-ton Cougar mechs heading straight for our position. I aimed for the right torso and fired. It went wide and hit the other Cougar in the leg. Strider went for the damaged Cougar head on in his Cicada. Titan followed in his Warhammer, aiming for the other, undamaged Cougar. I took this time to see if there were still any other mechs in the area.

"To any surviving Davion units located around the area, this is acting commander Lt. Joseph Foster of Alpha Lance, Delta Company. We are heavily outnumbered and outgunned, we were attacked during our drop and split up. We have lost more than half our company and are under attack by Clan forces. We require immediate support and/or extraction! We don't know if we can hold out much longer! Please respond!"

"Delta Company, this is Commander Scott of 3rd Battalion, Foxtrot Company. We are about 2 clicks from your position, can you hold until we arrive?" That voice on the comm reassured me greatly.

I spoke into the comm. "Roger, Foxtrot lead. Can you give me an ETA for your arrival?"

"Estimated time of arrival, 30 minutes. You'd better hold out until we arrive."

I sighed, and said back into comm "Roger, we'll do our best."

I slumped back and went back to my duty of watching over Strider and Titan as they continued to engage the pair of Cougars. They were dispatched with little to no problem. Nothing else was on radar, so we were able to catch our breath. I went on comms and asked "You guys holding up down there?"

"Yeah, we're doing just fine Foster. I think we're done here."

They were getting ready to move back towards my position when we had several readings emit off radar.

"What the hell? Strider, Titan, I've got multiple readings on my radar right now, investigate and find out what they are." They both moved back towards the mountain, running at the maximum speed their mechs could handle. They slowed down and moved into position. They went to the other side, out of my view, so I could only listen to their comm channels.

"I don't have a visual on them so far... Titan you see anything?" He asked, scanning the left flank for the rest of the Clan mechs.

"I ain't got anything... Wait, what's that? Is that... Crap, incoming LRM barrage!"

"Eject, god dammit, eject!"

"Oh fu-!"

Titan's comm went dead, and Strider yelled out a cry "No! You'll pay for this you Clanner bastards! I'll waste all of you!" Laser and Autocannon fire went off in the background, as Strider charged towards the Clan binary, hell bent on avenging Titan.

"Burn in hell, Clan scumbag!" He fired off and an explosion occurred. One signature on my radar disappeared. He fired again, and two more signatures disappeared off my radar. "You want some more, you clan scum? I can take on all you bastards!"

An unknown voice went on comm. "I don't think you can."

"Wha-" An unintelligible but horrifically painful scream emitted from Strider's comm before it went dead along with his heartbeat sensor. Titan's heartbeat sensor was still going, but I had no time to see if he had survived the ejection.

Outnumbered was the last thing that I ever wanted to have happen to me. No mechwarrior ever wants to have to deal with insurmountable odds that are not in his/her favor.

The same unknown voice went back on the comm. "Alright, you Davion freebirth, I'm not interested in learning your name or why your unit is here, but I am going to say this. Your friends may have taken out more than a third of our trinary, but a third isn't going to help you especially when you're outnumbered seven to one. Contrary to popular belief, we have the ability to show mercy to our foes, even if they are freebirth dogs like you. So I've going to give you two options. You can either power down your mech and surrender, and I will assure you that we will return you to Inner Sphere territory."

"And what if I don't?" I asked, since I wasn't planning on surrendering to Clan forces anytime soon.

"If you don't, we will let you suffer the same fate as your friends. The choice is yours."

I thought for a moment, then I turned my comm back on.

"Kiss my ass, Clanner."

"What an unfortunate choice. I will enjoy wiping your disgusting freebirth existence from this planet."

I shut off comms and ran towards the forest, as I stood a fighting chance using cover and tactics, rather than direct confrontation. My Hunchback was fast for a mech of it's type, going around 90 km/h.

The Clan mechs pursued, firing off their weapons in an attempt to destroy my back armor and breach my core. They missed my back, which I thought was unusual for a Clan warrior, since they're bred for battle and are well trained in warfare. I thought little of it and just considered myself lucky that they didn't have dual Gauss rifles on them, lest I get three shots in the back and get blown to kingdom come.

I found a nice hidden area in the forest covered from all sides, with one entrance in or out. My Hunchback was also fitted with ECM so I could engage in stealth operations when needed. I checked my radar and it lit up with multiple hostile readings heading towards my position. I thought for a moment how I could down their numbers just enough without risking a direct confrontation.

An idea sprang to mind. This idea had only been attempted once, by members of Yankee and Zulu Company during the first battle of Port Arthur during the Clan Wars of 3050. It was hard to pull off with only one mechwarrior, myself, but it could be done. I switched off my IFF designator and went further into the trees, narrowly missing being spotted by a two-mech patrol that happened to enter the spot I was hiding in. I switched my comms on in order to figure out what they were planning.

"Check this area. He's probably hiding around here somewhere." The first pilot, in a Black Lanner, looked around for anything that wasn't natural to the forest (My mech, of course, since it stood out like a sore thumb)

"Roger. Engaging thermal vision."

Crap. I forgot that all mechs have some sort of image enhancement system built in them.

I powered up my weapons, ran out and fired.

"Let's dance, Clanners!" I fired off my Gauss and three Medium Pulse Lasers at the other pilot, a Hunchback IIC. Both mechs turned and aimed for me. I went for the weaker Hunchback, taking advantage of the weakened armor that it had as a result of it's two Clan Ultra Heavy Autocannons. I pierced the paper-thin armour of the Hunchback, and took off one Autocannon. I dodged Laser and Autocannon fire, and fired again at the weakened Hunchback. I hit the side torso, and a big explosion engulfed the Hunchback, destroying it. The pilot ejected just before his mech burst into a beautiful display of Clan fireworks. The Black Lanner stopped for a moment and hailed me on comms.

"You did good, freebirth. I would've taken this opportunity to destroy you and end your pitiful life but instead i'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse. I wish to fight for you as your Bondsman. You can definitely use the support, as the remaining Mechs will outnumber you both in weight and sheer numbers."

This Clan warrior wasn't lying, as soon as I accepted his offer, my radar lit up with the positions of his former comrades. I now had an idea of what I was up against. It wasn't going to be an easy fight. A Dire Wolf, two Gargoyles, a Summoner, and a Timber Wolf against a Hunchback and a Black Lanner. We were scared that we might not make it out of this.

My support was still about 15 minutes away and I still didn't want to risk a direct confrontation with these heavily armed, bred-for-battle elite Clan warriors. I didn't have a choice, as I could either destroy them all and finally end this operation, or sit and wait for my impeding death or support from Davion reinforcements. I didn't want to do either, so I made a stupid choice that I knew would cost me my life.

I decided to end it all.

I ordered my Bondsman to stay behind and provide support when needed, and I went towards the flatlands where the Clanners were located.

They turned towards me and powered their weapons up.

"Are you here for a quick, painless death, freebirth?"

"No. But you're in for a long, painful one. Let's end this."

I aimed and fired. I was surrounded and I thought I was going to die. I hit the first mech and crippled it's fighting capabilities. He ejected like a coward. I took aim at the second mech, and fired. My shot went wide, and he fired back. My arm exploded, but I could still fight. I fired back at the mech, and it hit him in the head. He screamed and his comm went dead, mech toppling back to the ground. With three mechs remaining, I went for the Summoner. He shot, narrowly missing my head and Gauss Rifle numerous times. I had luck on my side and fired at his right torso (which was his left from my view). His side torso exploded, killing him instantly and splitting his battle-damaged Summoner into various pieces.

I looked around for the Timber Wolf and found my fellow Bondsman engaging his former ally. He was making quick work of him, so I focused on the Dire Wolf.

We stood looking at each other from opposing sides.

"Well, we meet face to face, Foster. You think you've won, but you haven't. Our forces will eradicate you from this planet. Face it, you've lost. You'll never win." He laughed and then gave me a chance to speak.

"Actually, we've already won. Sure, we may have been outnumbered and outgunned, lost two-thirds of our attacking forces, but through sheer tactics, courage, and bravery, we persisted. We used your numbers against your advantage. We destroyed your Trinary, and we'll eradicate the rest of you Clan scum off the face of this planet."

He was about to say something, but instead he cut off comms and ran straight for my mech. He fired his weapons, inflicting heavy damage to my mech. I fired back with whatever weapons I had, damaging him heavily as well. His mech was limping and he had lost half his weapons. I was down to my last round in my Gauss, and I had lost all my lasers. He had one round left in his Ultra Heavy Autocannon. He aimed for my head. I aimed for his weakened center torso.

"Time to finish this."

The sound of a Ultra Heavy Autocannon and a Gauss Rifle echoed through the forest. The dust was heavy. When it finally settled, both mechs were still standing. The Dire Wolf toppled over. The Clan Commander was dead.

The mission was over. I had succeeded in eliminating the remaining Clan forces. The Davion reinforcements arrived shortly after. We called for extraction.

"I'm done... I can't take it anymore." I kept muttering to myself. It seemed like forever. I blacked out."

About a month after the operation on Port Arthur I was dishonorably discharged due to my issues with my mental health. I lost everything. I was forced to leave and search for a new place.

I spent my time between towns, hanging in the local bars, drinking and attempting to make the pain go away. I lived that life for about three months until that fateful day I happened to find myself here.

**Chapter 2 **

**July 3063 - Terra**

**Deal Me In**

It seemed like I had been at this bar forever. I sat alone, shaking ever so slightly as I downed another glass of whiskey. In the background, were the sounds of mercenaries toasting with their unit about another successful operation, or boasting about their refitted 100-ton Assault-class mech that could wipe out an entire trinary of clanners without support. I could've cared less about their accomplishments, since the only accomplishment I had to my name was surviving the Second Battle for Port Arthur, in which I had barely made it out alive, successfully managing to hold off a binary of Jade Falcon clan warriors with just a single company of Davion pilots, pilots that didn't even make it back home to their families.

None of that mattered. All that damned battle gave me was a disgraceful medal, PTSD, and the scars I have to live with for the rest of my godforsaken life.

"Bartender, another shot of whiskey!" I yelled, and a glass of whiskey came my way. The shot went down my throat just as fast as it had came to me from the bartender.

"Lieutenant Foster?", a gruff voice standing out from the other distracting noise asked. It grabbed my attention, and I honestly found it quite odd that a stranger would come up from behind me and address me by my last name and rank.

"Yeah, who's asking?" I turned around and found myself staring into the eyes of another mercenary, bruised and battered, with blue eyes that looked like they had only seen nothing but pain, sorrow and death.

He stood over me, stared straight into my dark green eyes and said "So, you're the hero they all talk about. It's an honor to meet you, lieutenant."

I chuckled at his words and spoke. "Me, a hero? How the hell can I consider myself a hero when I lost more than half of my goddamn company and barely made it off that fucking rock alive?"

"Let's not argue about this, Foster. Point is, I want you to join up with my mercenary corp. We know you were discharged from your unit about three months ago, and we also know that you've got nowhere else to go. We could really use a mercenary pilot like you."

"Well..." I reached for my glass and gulped my drink down before continuing.

"I would take your offer, however, along with my discharge from my former unit, I also had to sell my mech, as I had no reason to keep it around after I was discharged." I sighed out and looked back at my already filled glass of whiskey.

The mercenary grabbed my shoulder and said "Don't worry, we'll have something waiting for you, should you join our corp."

"Take this card and this shuttle ticket. Our base is located on Solaris IV. When you get there, I'll be waiting for you." He turned around and walked out of the bar, but not before paying my bar tab and saying this: "Welcome to the Solaris Jokers, lieutenant. See you in a few days." I downed my last shot, and walked out, card and ticket in hand.

Three days went by, and I found myself, bags packed and all, on a shuttle leaving for Solaris IV. "Heh, the pay will be good." I thought.

I thought about the good things my job would bring me, and the bad things that my job could bring me.

When I stepped off the shuttle platform and walked into the terminal, I saw the mercenary, now clad in a trenchcoat, combats, and black boots, lighting a cigarette. He raised his hand at me and gestured me to come to him. I complied, taking my heavy bag of gear.

"It's good to see you again, Foster. Let's head out." We got into a small, armoured car and sped off. It took about an hour to get from the shuttleport to the Solaris Joker's base of operations.

When we finally got there, I was surprised at the professionalism of the Jokers, as the rag-tag small-time mercenary corp base I was expecting was as big as the Davion base that my old unit was stationed at. Two heavy mechs, both Cataphracts, stood guard at the front gate of the base.

We went through and parked at a vehicle depot, where we got out and walked towards the HQ building at the other side of the compound. The mercenary offered me a smoke and I declined his offer.

"You're not a very vocal person, are you Foster?" the mercenary asked, then took a breath from his cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the tobacco smoke out.

"Not really." I sighed, before saying "I don't believe you've introduced yourself, mercenary."

"I don't have a name. Everyone around here addresses me by my callsign, Blackwater."

I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the walk as he continued.

"I assumed you would join us. So here's the deal. You'll be in my lance. We're heading to Blantleff in a few day's time on orders of House Davion. We're going to be hot-dropped in to control a rebellion that has sprung on the planet. "

We walked towards the Mech bay. We walked past several mechs and stopped at the last spot left in the bay. In front of me, stood a black Atlas, 100 tons, prepped and ready for a fight.

"This is what you will be piloting. This AS7-D-DC, a Mech that stands the test of time, and a mech that strikes fear into the hearts and minds of your enemies. This is your mech. You still hesitant?"

I smirked, looked away and sighed. Despite all I did to leave my past behind, I couldn't run away. I knew somehow, I'd go back to the life I lived as a mercenary pilot for hire.

The Jokers were a group that enticed me, a group that made me want to go back to the lifestyle I desperately wanted to escape.

"Not anymore. I'm in."


End file.
